Chapter Text
There was the usual uncomfortable twist in his gut as Vergil watched Dante’s hand so easily find its way to Nero’s hair. How his child doesn’t flinch when his uncle approaches, only swatting him off with a ghost of a grin.
“Dante, this is serious, help me!”
“Sorry, Kid, the women in my life do their own shopping. And none are as saintly as your little songbird. I don’t have a clue what kind of thing to give a girl like that... although, I thought you did. There was a nice necklace the day we met if I recall.”
A family shopping trip so that his son can buy a gift for his girlfriend. Hard to think of anything more mundane, more human. So alien that all he can do is hang back as his brother and son banter and peer into store windows. While the years have changed them both, he and Dante still look enough alike that they could both pass for Nero’s father. The boy favours Vergil slightly but not enough that the crows around them can tell that Dante is Nero’s uncle, shamelessly encouraging his nephew to think about buying a ring.
“Come on, Kid. You said you wanted to know your family, why not officially make your girl part of it?” Vergil can hear the laugh in his brother’s throat, knowing it hides the guilt within, “I promise I won’t stab anyone if you want to hold it in a church.”
What Nero did not inherit from either son of Sparda was his ability to blush. Bright red, the boy scowls, “Like I’d trust you or Vergil to behave at a wedding. You’d make jokes and Vergil... he might just implode if we put him in a church.”
“You have a point. Of course, he might just ogle the architecture and give us a lecture about the history of stained glass. You never know with your old man, he can be quite the bore when the situation calls for it.” Dante is smirking at him above Nero’s head
Vergil growls. There’s a challenge in his brother’s eyes, one he aches to answer... but Dante won’t fight here. They have come for Nero. For Nero, they will get along. Still, the boy looks up at the snarl and frowns slightly. His lips part before he shakes his head.
He tries again.
“Well, you’ve met Kyrie, Vergil. What do you think she’d like? I’m sure you’ve been quietly analysing her at every encounter.”
The memory that strikes Vergil is an old one. It must be, for the voice he hears is his own father. Laughing at him.
“One day, you’ll release how grateful you are to have Dante. He’s the only one who knows you completely. The only one who lets you be yourself. You'd be lonely without him, there’s no one else you can truly play with.” Vergil remembers his father’s warmth against his cheek, the demon pressing his child to his chest, “You both have strengths, lend him yours and learn from his, Vergil.”
The rest of the memory is fuzzy. Vergil knows himself enough to know he probably brushed Sparda off, just as he would his mother in later years. He didn’t need Dante, didn’t want him. They didn’t understand each other...
But Dante had picked a fight because he understood Vergil’s prickly child was too kind not to come to someone’s defence. He understood Vergil’s own envy. Dante had insulted him knowing Nero would yield and let his father into their conversion. The happy smile on his twin’s face is proof of that. As is the almost imperceptible twitch of his hands, encouraging him to answer Nero.
“Kyrie wouldn’t really like a ring. She would consider it a waste. She already thinks we’re family and her thoughts are always geared towards others anyway. Especially those children of yours.” Another blush as Nero bites back his usual explanation that they are his adopted children. The distinction mattered both to preserve Kyrie’s purity and to spare Nero the shame of others thinking he had passed his Devil blood on.
The hum rises Vergil’s throat as he thinks, “She’d probably enjoy something practical, something your family will be able to use. Perhaps something to help with the cooking, a gift to her by freeing up her time while also helping support the household. Harder for her to complain of you wasting your money on unnecessary luxuries that way.”
Vergil wonders if he will ever recall Nero’s mother enough to know that she chewed her lip while thinking too. Three bites and Nero is nodding, grinning even. At his father.
“Thanks, that’s a good idea.” The boy stays out of arms reach, still not completely comfortable with a man who caused him such pain, “Kitchenware?”
“That way.” Dante loops an easy arm around his nephew, points him in the right direction and gets him moving, “Let’s go, Romeo. The sooner you get your anniversary gift, the sooner I get my pizza.”
Dante is loud and vibrant. Eye-catching enough that most people pay no attention to the white-haired young man at his side or their similarly silvering shadow. Vergil can see Nero’s relief as each pair of eyes washes over him, as he avoids standing out. Dante used to play the fool for Vergil once too. Those days when he forgot how to pretend he was human. The time when he really was loved and protected, even if he didn’t see it then.
As Nero strolls through the door of his hopeful Aladdin’s Cave, Vergil catches Dante’s collar.
“Thank you.” He supposes the words could mean so much. Thank you for understanding my child when I don’t. Thank you for helping Nero accept himself. Thank you for helping bridge the gap between us all because my child is human and I don’t think I ever was. Thank you for being there. Instead, Vergil offers a smirk, “I’m grateful you refuse to grow up, it gives Nero someone to play with.”
Dante’s smile is almost blinding, “Yeah, he’s way more fun than you. Hard to believe you made him.”
“I’m sure our parents thought that about you all the time, Dante.”
Still, Sparda had been right. It really wasn’t so bad, having Dante as a brother.